Headlong
by dolly.the.sheep
Summary: what happens during the song Headlong? well, this, in my opinion. character development and teeny tiny amount of songfic.


"Let's go!"

Meat and Brit turned to each other and slapped high fives, grinning widely. They beckoned to the two newbies eagerly and motioned for them to keep close. The guy was definitely the more energetic of the two – _he_ was bouncing up and down excitedly, while the girl either couldn't be arsed or was simply deep in thought. Meat studied her for a second, then reckoned on the latter.

After a few minutes' walk, they stopped suddenly. Brit looked around, scanning the horizon with sharp eyes and looking out for any potential threats. Galileo watched him with interest and awe, whereas Scaramouche was looking at him like he was a bit of a nutter. Then again, she was looking at everyone like that.

When Brit finally gave Meat the all clear, she nodded at him and manoeuvred deftly over a large pile of rubbish – surprisingly deftly, considering the boots she was wearing. Scaramouche gazed at them with admiration and slight jealousy. Meat climbed up to the top of the pile and crouched down, staying as low as she could. A sharp whistle from her lips told her colleague to move quickly. As Brit climbed up to meet her, the other two followed obediently, although the guy was obviously trying to keep his boots as clean as possible.

"Where're we going?" Scaramouche asked, sensing the need to stay low and quiet. She slowly realised for the first time that she had no idea where she was being taken.

"We're going down, hen!" said Meat cheerfully, and promptly disappeared under a large wooden crate at the top of the rubbish pile. Brit bounded up after her and lifted the crate up, peering underneath it. After a few seconds, he turned to Scaramouche and raised his eyebrows purposefully.

"What?" she said, slightly annoyed. She frowned deeply at him.

"Get under it," Brit said, quietly but urgently. "And hurry up. They might be following us." Scaramouche looked at him oddly, half wondering who 'they' might be, before shrugging slightly and clambering up to the crate rather disgracefully in her boots two sizes too big.

When she looked under it, she was surprised to see a long vertical tunnel hidden very cleverly by the crate. It didn't take her agile mind long to work out that this tunnel was probably already here to start with, but that the rubbish had been added to conceal it. She looked dubiously down the hole, then back up at Brit.

"It's safe," he said. She detected a hint of impatience in his voice. "It's a soft landing." Still uncertain, Scaramouche climbed slowly under the crate, sat on the edge of the hole with her feet dangling down and looked back at the world she'd grown up in. She surveyed it disdainfully, and felt glad she was leaving it behind, although deep down a tiny part of her was worried she might miss it. The thought terrified her, and she pushed it out of her mind as she took a deep breath and allowed herself to fall down the tunnel.

She only fell for a few seconds before she landed in a crumpled heap on a pile of moth-eaten old mattresses. She shook her head slightly, pushed her hair out of her eyes and crawled off the pile.

"You ok?" Meat asked, holding out a hand to pull Scaramouche up.

"Could be worse," she replied, ignoring Meat's hand and pulling herself up unaided. Meat withdrew her hand, smiling slightly at Scaramouche's obvious independence.

"What did ye say yer name was?"

"Which name? My real one, or the one that weirdo –" She jerked her head up towards the tunnel. "– gave me?"

"How about both?"

"Sally. But _he_ called me Scaramouche." She pulled a face, crossing her eyes and wrinkling her nose up in annoyance. Meat considered these names for a few seconds, looking her up and down critically. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she was interrupted by a loud 'WHOOMPH' as Galileo landed on the mattress with a groan. Scaramouche rolled her eyes.

"Scaramouche suits you better," Meat said, ignoring Galileo.

"Y'think?" said Scaramouche, slightly dubiously.

"Yeah," replied Meat, grinning. "It does."

"I came up with that," Galileo piped up. He obviously didn't want to be left out of the conversation. "I dreamed it, y'know."

"Allegedly," said Meat and Scaramouche simultaneously. They looked at each other and burst into giggles. Galileo was slightly put out, and was about to argue his point when Brit jumped down and nearly landed on Galileo's foot. He managed to scramble out of he way just in time, but in doing so he fell off the mattresses and almost broke his neck.

"You alright, mate?" Brit said, up on his feet in no time. He jumped down to Galileo's level and helped him up.

"I think so," he said. "My head kinda hurts, though. I think I hit it on the way down."

"We'll get someone tae have a look at ye when we get there," Meat said. "In the mean time, we'd best move quickly. You never know who might be followin'." Meat walked over to the pile of mattresses, stuck her arm inbetween two of them and rummaged around for something. After a second or two she withdrew her arm, pulled out a small torch and switched it on.

"This way," Brit said quietly. He walked silently over to the wall of the tunnel they were in and put his hand out, searching for something on the wall. Scaramouche looked at Brit questioningly.

"We have tae make the way down hard tae find," Meat explained in a whisper, repositioning the torch to give Brit better light to see by. "If it was a simple route, the police'd find us in no time. And we cannae have that happenin' – they'd destroy us." Brit nodded in agreement as he continued searching the wall for what they now understood to be a secret passage. Eventually, his hand came into contact with whatever he was looking for – he pushed hard against the wall with his hand and a hole appeared in the floor, sliding back to reveal a worn set of stone stairs.

"Like Ah said," Meat whispered, grinning. "We're going down." She hopped down into the hole and started going down. Scaramouche followed eagerly, then Galileo went down, with Brit bringing up the rear. Just before they all went down the steps, Brit paused to pull the cover over the hole again.

The steps were wide enough for two people to walk comfortably together side-by-side, so Scaramouche hurried down a little to walk next to Meat. She didn't really trust Brit, and Galileo would probably insist on dreaming up a last name for her as well. Granted, she didn't really trust Meat that much either, but at least she was another girl to talk to.

"So how long have you been a Bohemian?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Since Ah was about your age," Meat replied. "Ah met Brit just after Ah left school – he was the one who introduced me tae that sorta stuff. Y'know, other Bohemians."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Well, he used to be a man with a stick in his hand –"

"And _she_ used to be a woman with a hot-dog stand," Brit cut in. "We were friends when we were kids, lost contact with each other when I moved away, then met again at a VR football game. She sold hot-dogs, I was a trainee police officer."

"But he gave up that game, didn't ye?" Meat said, grinning and winking at him.

"Jesus Christ, it was awful," moaned Brit. "Those truncheons were hell to use."

"So you met, fell in love, and ran away together?"

"Pretty much."

They walked in silence for a few minutes after that. The stairs seemed endless.

"So what other stuff have you dreamed?" Brit said to Galileo, breaking the silence. Meat and Scaramouche looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Men," Scaramouche muttered.

"Ah'll second that," mumbled Meat.

"Well, it's a huge jumble of things, mainly," Galileo said. "And I have no idea where it comes from, or what it means. It's just kinda … there. In my head. They're out of control. And there's nothing I can do about it."

"Well, gimme a phrase and I'll see if I know it."

Galileo thought for a second, then opened his mouth and waited for something random to tumble out, like it usually did – but nothing seemed to be happening. For the first time in years, his mind was completely devoid of weird words and phrases. He shut his mouth quickly. After a few more seconds of near-silence, Meat stopped and looked back at Galileo with a smug smile on her face.

"Nothin' comin'?" she asked in mock disappointment.

"No," moaned Galileo, his shoulders sinking.

"Why does that no' surprise me?" Meat muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. Galileo felt so disappointed. Every time he didn't want the words slipping out, they came tumbling out like there was no tomorrow – but now he really wanted them to appear, he'd dried up. Brit slapped his back.

"Look, mate, all you need is –"

"Love," Galileo finished dispiritedly. Suddenly he and Brit realised what he'd said, and stopped dead in their tracks, and Meat and Scaramouche slowed considerably, but still moving away from him slightly.

"What did ye say?" Meat asked, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

"Love," repeated Galileo. "All … all you need is love." He turned to Brit, utterly gobsmacked and incredibly confused. "Is that what you were gonna say?"

"No, I was going to say that all you need was a little hint and a push in the right direction," Brit said incredulously. He looked at Meat and started to grin happily, whereas Meat continued to look at Galileo somewhat disbelievingly.

"See, babes?" Brit said. "He _is_ the Dreamer! He knows the words!"

"Yeah, but where'd he get the words _from_? Ah dunno, Brit, Ah'm still not convinced. Any clever bugger could'a found his way down here and seen the texts if he'd been determined enough tae find us."

"But if he'd been that determined, wouldn't he have been determined enough to destroy us at the same time?"

"Look, let's just get these two down before anythin' else happens. We can get the 'Dreamer' here checked out by Big Macca when we get there." Meat turned back round and continued to walk down the stairs, closely followed by Scaramouche, who was starting to greatly admire Meat. Brit started to protest, but decided it was best not to, and instead grabbed Galileo's arm and started pulling him along down the stairs with him. They walked in silence for a minute or so, and Scaramouche started to wonder if these steps would ever end.

"Can Ah ask ye a question?" Meat said suddenly to Scaramouche, who was slightly taken aback at Meat's sudden interest, but also quite flattered that someone was talking to her like an equal. Like a – dare she think it? – friend.

"S'pose," she replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"How'd ye get yer hair that colour?"

"Why d'you ask?"

"Just curious, that's all. Ah think it's a really nice colour on ye."

"Really?" Scaramouche said, surprised. "You – you mean you like my hair?"

"Yeah, it's great. Ah love it. Ah tried goin' purple once, but it didn't really work. Ah've not got the right sorta skin. You, on the other hand … well, ye've got paler skin than me. The dark hair brings that out. Very gothic." Scaramouche blushed.

"Ah mean that in a good way," Meat said quickly, afraid she'd upset the newbie. She was starting to take quite a shine to her – she reminded Meat of herself when she was her age.

"Thanks," Scaramouche said in a small voice. She wasn't used to being complimented – she had no comebacks for nice comments.

"So, anyway, how'd ye get it that colour? Ah've never known purple hair to be 'in'."

"It's not," Scaramouche admitted. "It's never been 'in'. But rainbow streaks, on the other hand, _were_ 'in'. Well, they've been in and out for a while now. See, my mum works as a hairdresser, but she's not a very important one – so while all the other people programme in the latest hairstyles, mum has to go round and get rid of any dyes that go out of fashion. I've always liked dark colours – y'know, black, blue, purple, red, those types of colours – so when purple went 'out', I snuck into the store room of the hairdresser's and stole all the pots of purple dye, and dyed my hair purple."

"But how'd ye manage tae keep it that colour?"

"Well, when there was only a little bit left, I took it to the Science labs at school and analysed the contents. There was conditioning stuff so your hair didn't become permanently damaged through over-use of the dye, a mixture of red and blue colouring, other types of hair stuff … basically, all the ingredients were in my bathroom cupboard. I figured I could easily make my own dye – so I did." She blushed again as Meat looked at her in surprise and approval.

"Well," Meat admitted. "Ah'm impressed. Ah wouldnae have expected someone tae make their own hair dye."

"You mean you'd never have expected a GaGa to make their own," Scaramouche said, cottoning on to what Meat wanted to say. Meat looked slightly uncomfortable – she also hadn't expected someone so young to be so acute. She gave an awkward shrug.

"Well … yeah, but … well … GaGa's aren't usually so … so …" She struggled to find the right adjective to describe Scaramouche.

"Weird? Strange? Abnormal?" Scaramouche tried to help her.

"Intelligent," Meat settled on. Scaramouche blushed again, and Meat laughed.

"You're no' used tae compliments, are ye?" she said gently, putting a comforting arm around Scaramouche's shoulder.

"Not as such," she said quietly. "I'm more used to biting comments and insults."

By this time, the steps had ended, and they were walking along the floor, which was also made of stone, and had a wide groove in it where people had obviously been walking on it repeatedly for long periods of time.

"How much further have we got to go?" Scaramouche asked. She wasn't whining or moaning about the length of the journey, which surprised Meat slightly but not as much as she might have expected.

"Not long," she said. "Mebbe half an hour or so. It all depends, y'see."

"On what?" Galileo piped up.

"If we find anythin' worth pickin' up," Meat said, somewhat coldly.

"Bits of paper, clothes, stuff we could use for weapons or instruments," Brit said. "We can usually find a use for most things."

"Instruments?"

"Yeah, musical instruments," Brit said. "See, we're rebels, right? Outlaws. And musical instruments are banned – have been for nearly three hundred years – so we piss GlobalSoft off by making our own." Brit grinned wickedly as Meat turned to smile at Brit.

"It's not our fault, though," Meat said, like a schoolgirl caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing. "If they'd just _let_ us use musical instruments, we wouldnae have tae make our own just tae piss them off." Brit cackled as Meat winked at him.

"Aww, c'mon, babes," he said to her. "We _have_ to make the instruments. Otherwise … what else have we got?"

"Bugger all," Scaramouche said, somewhat sadly. _Exactly what I had a few hours ago. But now … well, these people have got themselves sorted, they've got their whole lives ahead of them. Together._ Deep in her chest, she felt a terrible pang of loneliness and despair. _I want that. Love. Is that too much to ask for?_ She blinked back a tear and sniffed loudly. Meat and Brit, at that moment, were only interested in each other (although Brit seemed equally interested in Meat's breasts), and so were ignoring the two newbies. They, however, weren't ignoring each other.

"You alright?" Galileo asked, taking a tentative step towards Scaramouche. He was fully aware of the cutting remarks she could muster, and didn't want to upset her too much for fear of his own life.

Scaramouche looked up at Galileo, then looked away again quickly, afraid he'd see her with tears in her eyes and think she was a soft touch. She gave another sniff, then faked a sneeze.

"Bit of a cold, I reckon," she said. "Nothing for you to worry about." She looked back up at him, held eye contact, then looked away, blushing slightly. Galileo hesitated for a second, then went another few steps closer.

"Temperature?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"Dunno," she said, shrugging. She felt the pain in her chest lessen slightly. "It's cold down here."

"Yeah," he admitted, then kicked himself inwardly for not saying anything cleverer. He cleared his throat nervously. Scaramouche didn't seem to notice – she was gazing at Meat and Brit, locked together in a passionate kiss.

"They seem to be warm enough," she said, jerking her head to Meat and Brit. Galileo gave a small chuckle. Scaramouche looked up at him, and he looked at her – and, as their eyes locked, Meat and Brit pulled apart breathlessly.

"You've still got that bit o' wood, then?" Meat commented, grasping Brit's buttocks with one hand, pulling him closer, and running the other one up the inside of his thigh. Quickly, although very reluctantly, he stopped her hand before it could get any higher.

"Now, now," he warned cheekily. "Not in front of the children."

Scaramouche was experiencing the strangest feeling she'd had in her life. For the first time, the deep, heart-wrenching pain was dissolving rapidly, to be replaced with a fluttering sensation lower down in her belly. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and mildly comforting – yet, at the same time, she wasn't sure if she welcomed this feeling.

She broke the eye contact and moved away from Galileo quickly, afraid of this strange new feeling. In her naivety, she thought that if being near Galileo made her stomach flutter like this, maybe the feeling would go away if she went away from him – but this just increased the feeling. Cursing herself and taking a deep breath, she turned purposefully away from Galileo and walked towards Meat.

"Meat," she said in a shaky voice. "I don't feel too well."

"What's wrong?" Meat said, suddenly concerned for the young girl.

"I don't know," she said. "It's … I dunno, it's something in my stomach. I've never felt it before."

"What's it like? Does it hurt?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. She glanced over at Galileo, who was looking quite forlorn, and for some reason her heart lifted slightly. A small smile started to creep onto her lips. Meat followed the direction of Scaramouche's gaze, and smiled gently when she noticed that Galileo was grinning back at her, and fidgeting embarrassedly. Meat looked back at Scaramouche, who had not broken her gaze, and put an arm around her shoulder again.

"It's butterflies, isn't it?" she whispered into her ear. Scaramouche nodded slightly and then looked up at Meat. Meat's smile widened and she leaned in closer to Scaramouche.

"Welcome tae Bohemia, kid," she said. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, slightly longer than she might usually have kissed a new girl, gave her a one-armed hug and walked back over to Brit.

"She OK?" Brit muttered.

"Yeah," Meat assured him. "Ah don't think _she_ wants tae admit it, but Ah think they're startin' tae like each other." She looked at Brit. "Wanna go talk tae him?"

"Alright then," he said, kissing her. "And don't think I didn't see that peck you gave the girl," he added, winking. "You horny little bugger, you." Meat pouted.

"Nothin' wrong with bein' horny, is there?" she asked. She stuck out her lower lip and made puppy-dog eyes at Brit.

"Of course not, babes," he said, grinning wickedly. "But how about saving some for me?"

"Baby, there's always enough for you," Meat replied, just as cheekily. They kissed again, and Brit walked over to Galileo, who was still staring at Scaramouche.

"You alright, mate?" Brit asked, slapping Galileo on the back. Galileo jerked out of his daydream and looked at Brit. For a few seconds, he looked backwards and forwards from Brit to Scaramouche, slightly open-mouthed.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I'm … I'm fine."

"Hot chick, isn't she?" Brit said, jerking his thumb towards Scaramouche.

"Oh, man, she drives me crazy," he said. "But … I wanna hold her hand." Brit grinned widely at hearing these ancient texts. He looked over at Meat, who was talking to Scaramouche about eyeshadow and lipstick, then back at Galileo.

"I tell you," Galileo said, shaking his head slightly. "When a red hot man meets a white hot lady …"

"I know the feeling, mate," Brit said. "My chick drives me crazy as well sometimes – but it's always cool."

"What about Galileo, then?" Meat asked Scaramouche.

"Gaz?" she asked. She shrugged nonchalantly, but smiled and blushed at the same time. "He's alright."

"Them butterflies?"

"I dunno … what's it mean?"

"You mean tae tell me you've never felt that feeling afore?" Meat said, somewhat incredulously. "Babe, lemme tell ye … there's nothin' like it in the entire world."

"I know," Scaramouche said quietly, looking over at Galileo. "And when the fire starts to burn, it … well, it drives you more than half crazy."

"You said it, kid," Meat chuckled. "Anyways, we're nearly there now – it's only a bit further on down there."

"Really?"

"Would Ah lie tae you?"

"I dunno. I've only just met you."

"Ye came with us, though, didn't ya?"

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I just had to get out of that horrible place. I didn't care who I went with, I just had to leave." She looked up at Meat. "And I'm bloody glad I did." They both grinned widely. Meat motioned to Brit to follow them as they started to walk further down the dim tunnel.

"So who else is down here?" Scaramouche asked.

"Oh, loads o' guys," Meat said. "We'll introduce both o' ye when we get there. And don't worry 'bout bein' mobbed or anythin' – only me and Brit know where this entrance is. No-one else has found it."

"And that's the way we like it," Brit said. "It makes it easier for us to sneak out if Big Macca's on the warpath."

"Here we are," Meat said suddenly, coming to a halt in front of a tall, rusting ladder attached to the wall. She climbed up it in a hurry, quickly followed by Brit, then Scaramouche, with Galileo bringing up the rear. After a few minutes' climbing, they heard the sound of a trap door opening, and a shaft of light appeared at the top of the ladder.

They climbed through the hole, up into what looked like a huge circular tunnel. The floor had two long pieces of metal running parallel to each other about two metres apart. Meat replaced the cover of what was obviously a manhole of some sort, then ran along to the end of the tunnel where there was a great deal more light. The other three followed, and they soon found themselves in a brightly lit place, with bright pictures and colours on the walls, a raised platform, several doors leading in and out and a large pile of rubble. Galileo gazed around in awe and fascination. Brit grinned widely and slapped him on the back again.

"Welcome," he said," to the Heartbreak Hotel!"


End file.
